A/N: Sorry for taking a bit longer than normal to get this up. Life
finally caught up with me and decided to play a time game. So.here it is-
Chapter 10. New e-mail address is anna_dearest@hotmailcom. Send me
comments, questions, suggestions, anything you're not comfortable putting
in a review. My inbox is always open.
-Anna Dearest
Chapter 10
Two weeks and nine Quidditch practices later, Hogwarts seemed to have fallen into a tense state of normalcy. Voldemort had been quiet. Disturbingly quiet.
For the past two weeks, there had been no attacks, no deaths, and no further Azkaban raids. Harry still remembered reading the newspaper and feeling like retching the day after having that dream-
**********
AZKABAN RAIDED! BELIEVED TO BE THE WORKINGS OF HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
Only yesterday, the fortress of Azkaban was the location of a mass Death Eater raid, in which many were killed, injured, or released. Among the dead are seven of the prison guards on shift, as well as many of the prisoners who were not convicted of Death Eater-related crimes. To top it off, nineteen Death Eaters have escaped.
Survivor Edward Felter, one of the guards on shift, reported spotting none other than Peter Pettigrew on the scene. "Sort of skittish 'e was," Felter comments from St. Mungo's, where he is currently recovering from exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. "Like nothing I ever seen before, all the Dementors running amuck, and there's lil' Pettigrew who I remember from school, just standing there shaking in Death Eater robes and all. 'E looked jus' like 'e did all them years back in school!"
As to the behavior of the Dementors, the reason is under speculation. "They are perfectly under control," comments Fudge. "I suppose that the raid just had them worked up is all."
Is our Minister beginning to lose his touch? It would appear that something needs to be done, and done soon. Others may not be so lucky as Mr. Edward Felter.
************
Yes, Harry remembered the article well. He remembered feeling sick as he remembered the green-tinged prisoners screaming in their insanity and filth, begging for escape. Perhaps Voldemort had actually given them that. Perhaps for once, his killings had been merciful compared to the current condition of their lives.
Anything compared to that would be merciful.
Harry rubbed his eyes. Where was he again, and why? Oh yes, Divination. Was his death being predicted again already?
Ever since he'd heard of the prophecy from Dumbledore, he'd been on rather short terms with Trelawney, even more so recently. Not that he didn't have his reasons. He knew that it wasn't her fault, but if that prophecy had never been made, life would have been a lot different. For starters, he'd probably have his parents, Sirius probably wouldn't be a convicted murderer who'd spent twelve years in hell, and Harry would have known what a real family was.not the Weasleys, who had pretty much adopted him, but a real family.That was what he really wanted. Someone to turn to at any time and not feel embarrassed. The closest thing he had to that was Sirius, and he was grateful. What he really wanted was something he could call a stable family, his family-
"Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to pay attention," Trelawney snapped. "I was just saying that while crystal-gazing today, I have seen the future child, and it looked bleak my boy."
"Probably because twenty years from now you'll still be predicting my death five times a day," Harry muttered angrily, hardly audible, however it still sent Ron into fits of laughter. 'If I've lived that long,' Harry thought miserably. Harry allowed his sharp glare to drop from the insect-like professor to rest of the table. When would he be able to live his life?
**********
All of the Death Eaters in the circle twitched nervously it seemed. A ripple effect seemed to start at one side and wind its way to the other. Behind the masks, it was as though they were one, all fearing the same master, the same curse, bearing the same burden, living the same life. Voldemort lazily looked at their anxious behavior; you could almost smell their fear in the air. Behind him stood the only one who dared not flinch, dared not to show fear. Azalea Riddle could admit that she feared her father, though not as most would expect.
Azalea did not fear the Killing Curse, and its quick death. She didn't fear the Imperious Curse forcing her to relinquish control of her mind. Nor did she fear the searing pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
She feared not being accepted as a Death Eater, as not being able to follow in his path, her father's path. Her idiotic siblings had chosen the rough path through life, especially her twin, who Azalea much wanted to handle personally.
Ever since birth it seemed, everyone could tell upon close inspection that there was a difference between the small girls. Azalea's own mother feared her inner intentions, but cooed over the power that radiated off of Candlefox. The young child had relished the moment she felt her mother die, and felt that last connection of good die in her.
But it didn't die in her twin.
Actually, over the years it did nothing but grow, until the Mudblood-lover had set out to save the world. Candlefox had tried to change her sister, tried to reason with her, but to no avail. Azalea would simply laugh in her face and spit at her feet, saying, "I know who my father is, and where my loyalty rests."
Azalea smiled inwardly at thoughts of her sister's twisted demise. She didn't care who took Johnathan. Her connection to her twin was the only thing stopping her from doing what she felt she was set on this earth to do: Rid the world of that Mudblood scum that dared to call themselves wizards, and also those who stood in her father's way.
Her father's work would not go without reward. Not for him or his most faithful followers, those there out of loyalty rather than fear. Her grandfather had abandoned his wife and son because of what they were. And now they would rid the world of Muggles an Muggles-borns for the same reason. They were all like the elder, now deceased, Tom Riddle. All filth, not worthy of wiping the scum from her father's feet.
They would see soon.
"Now, I must admit I am pleased with the results of the attack." the voice dragged her back into the here and now.
**********
"I can't believe we haven't gone to see Hagrid yet!" Hermione said as they made their way across the grounds to the gamekeeper's hut. A small funnel of smoke snaked it's way from the chimney, a sure sign that winter was coming soon.
"There has definitely been too much going on," Harry sighed. He stepped up to knock on Hagrid's door.
"I was wonderin' when yeh three'd be coming to see meh!" Hagrid exclaimed, ushering the three students inside after he opened the door. "I haven't seen much o' you three since the start o' school. I say I was beginin' to feel a tad bi' hurt." Harry chuckled deeply as he watched Harry fend off his huge boarhound, named Fang.
"Sorry Hagrid, but we've got Mr. Quidditch Captain here now," Ron joked.
"Yeah, speakin' o' tha! Congratulations, Harry. I jus' haven't had a chance ter tell yeh that."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, turning away, slightly red.
"Come on, Harry!" Ron cheered. "You're Quidditch Captain! Enjoy your fame!" Ron clapped him on the back and smiled broadly.
"As if I don't have enough already."
"Have you three been watchin' the papers?" Hagrid asked in a low tone. After three nods of assent he continued. "I can' believe tha they can' put two an' two together. They spot Pettigrew, yet can' figure out tha he's not dead, there's You-Know-Who attacks everywhere, but that danged Fudge is still tryin' ter cover it up! I say that someone should jus' take over his there position and start runnin' the Ministry the righ' way!"
"I couldn't agree more!" Hermione beamed. "It's about time that someone uncovered all of the Minister's cover-ups. He's still trying to make it sound like Voldemort attacks are a passing phase!"
"I'm surprised the Muggles aren' noticin' anything. But then agin, tha's jus' like most of 'em," Hagrid sighed. "But on ter lighter subjects. That was some fine Keepin' and Seekin' that you two did at Gryffindor's game that I couldn' get a chance ter congratulate you all on either."
"Thanks Hagrid," Ron said immediately. Ron was one to love what attention he could get, and it really shone through then. After all, being best friends with Harry Potter tends to push you out of the limelight.
"Not a problem," Hagrid boomed. "I still remember when you lot were jus' small lil' firs' years! I'm awful proud of all of you meself!"
For the good part of two hours, the four sat reminiscing of the past years, the good and bad. Along with the Gryffindor Trio's tales, Hagrid was able to tell a good few of his own from his few years as a student, to the years as gamekeeper, including tales of the Marauders.
Around dinnertime, the cheerful group made their way up to the castle. The Great Hall seemed oddly cheerful under the evening gloom. Upon questioning their fellow students, they found that Halloween, the next Saturday, was a Hogsmeade weekend. All of the students were discussing what they'd buy, whom they'd meet in the Three Broomsticks, and what they'd need to tide them over until the next trip.
Halloween was always a time to remember.
**********
"All right, where shall we go first?" Hermione asked, stepping out into the crisp October chill. They were on their way to Hogsmeade, to spend another weekend sipping butterbeer and buying items from the various shops to their heart's content.
"I say we go to the Three Broomsticks!" Ron proclaimed. "Butterbeer sounds nice in this weather." Ron tugged his cloak around him, as the weather did indeed seem to merit the soothing warmth of the drink.
"I have no objections," Hermione stated briskly. "Harry?"
"Butterbeer does sound great." Harry smiled to his friends. Count on them to make the weekend enjoyable.
The three friends wound their way along the path to the old wizarding village. As they entered the street, Hogwarts students were milling about, pointing out items through the glass shop windows or dragging their friends through the crowd to a predetermined destination.
The Three Broomsticks was as inviting as always. Stepping in from the cool air outside, it was definitely a relief to feel the warmth wash over their chilled bodies. Harry and Ron grabbed a nice table in a corner while Hermione made her way to the bar. Moments later, she spotted them and made her way over with the three drinks clutched in her hands.
"It's always great to have a Hogsmeade weekend before the Halloween feast," Hermione smiled, sipping the warm drink happily.
"I don't see what the whole Halloween ordeal is. Hogsmeade is nice everyday of the year," Ron pointed out.
"I know, but it just seems appropriate somehow. After all those tales, I heard of witches and wizards on Halloween when I was little. It just seems to fit to me."
The conversation continued in that manner for a while. The Gryffindor Trio just sat enjoying one another's company, something that they'd missed for too long. It was bonds like theirs that couldn't be broken.
Unfortunately, their time of happiness was cut terribly short. Hermione and Ron were arguing peaceably back and forth. That's when it happened.
Harry felt a prickling on the back of his neck. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that it most certainly couldn't be something good. That would just be his luck.
Nothing happened for several minutes, and Harry was fully able to picture himself as a paranoid old man sitting on his porch in a rocking chair with his wand in hand. Was he really that worried?
Then something finally hit.
Some sort of explosion from off in the distance was the first warning, followed quickly by high-pitched screams. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed to the door with the rest of the curious mob. They could see fire unfurling in the air above the forest, stretching forth from the dark trees, marking the sky with flames.
All faces froze in horror, none of them seeming to register what could possibly be the cause of this terror. From stricken face to stricken face, a look of shock and complete disbelief was etched deeply in the lines of worry and fear.
Then the Death Eaters Apparated in. With a soft pop and a swish of black cloaks, the followers of Voldemort were upon the villagers of Hogsmeade.
Curses were being flung back and forth, neither side gaining any lead. Screams resonated from the very walls of the wizarding village. Hogwarts students began to stream back to the school, knowing that once they were in embrace of Dumbledore's walls they'd be safe.
It was very confusing being jostled by the crowd as it ran like a thick river of bodies towards the ancient castle. Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't help but be pushed along with the rest. It was as though every scream pushed them onwards, as the flowing body pushed forward faster and faster.
The Defense Team was there, protecting them as ever. They urged them on, blocking off the Death Eater's path, preventing the black cloaked wizards from making it to the castle.
All the students gathered in the Great Hall, all of them looking for answers. However, they already knew what had happened. They had just witnessed a VERY obvious Voldemort attack, and very foolishly planned at that.
It wasn't until all was settled, and the bedraggled Defense Team had made it back to the school that everyone tried to gather their bearings. They had assumed that everyone was safe, until a cry came from the back of the crowd, sounding frantic and exasperated.
"WAIT! Where's Neville?!?!?"
A/N: Yes, it's a terribly short chapter. It should be a crime, I know. But I couldn't see a more appropriate way to end it. All Neville fans, I apologize. It was either he or Ginny. -Anna Dearest
Chapter 10
Two weeks and nine Quidditch practices later, Hogwarts seemed to have fallen into a tense state of normalcy. Voldemort had been quiet. Disturbingly quiet.
For the past two weeks, there had been no attacks, no deaths, and no further Azkaban raids. Harry still remembered reading the newspaper and feeling like retching the day after having that dream-
**********
AZKABAN RAIDED! BELIEVED TO BE THE WORKINGS OF HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED
Only yesterday, the fortress of Azkaban was the location of a mass Death Eater raid, in which many were killed, injured, or released. Among the dead are seven of the prison guards on shift, as well as many of the prisoners who were not convicted of Death Eater-related crimes. To top it off, nineteen Death Eaters have escaped.
Survivor Edward Felter, one of the guards on shift, reported spotting none other than Peter Pettigrew on the scene. "Sort of skittish 'e was," Felter comments from St. Mungo's, where he is currently recovering from exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. "Like nothing I ever seen before, all the Dementors running amuck, and there's lil' Pettigrew who I remember from school, just standing there shaking in Death Eater robes and all. 'E looked jus' like 'e did all them years back in school!"
As to the behavior of the Dementors, the reason is under speculation. "They are perfectly under control," comments Fudge. "I suppose that the raid just had them worked up is all."
Is our Minister beginning to lose his touch? It would appear that something needs to be done, and done soon. Others may not be so lucky as Mr. Edward Felter.
************
Yes, Harry remembered the article well. He remembered feeling sick as he remembered the green-tinged prisoners screaming in their insanity and filth, begging for escape. Perhaps Voldemort had actually given them that. Perhaps for once, his killings had been merciful compared to the current condition of their lives.
Anything compared to that would be merciful.
Harry rubbed his eyes. Where was he again, and why? Oh yes, Divination. Was his death being predicted again already?
Ever since he'd heard of the prophecy from Dumbledore, he'd been on rather short terms with Trelawney, even more so recently. Not that he didn't have his reasons. He knew that it wasn't her fault, but if that prophecy had never been made, life would have been a lot different. For starters, he'd probably have his parents, Sirius probably wouldn't be a convicted murderer who'd spent twelve years in hell, and Harry would have known what a real family was.not the Weasleys, who had pretty much adopted him, but a real family.That was what he really wanted. Someone to turn to at any time and not feel embarrassed. The closest thing he had to that was Sirius, and he was grateful. What he really wanted was something he could call a stable family, his family-
"Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to pay attention," Trelawney snapped. "I was just saying that while crystal-gazing today, I have seen the future child, and it looked bleak my boy."
"Probably because twenty years from now you'll still be predicting my death five times a day," Harry muttered angrily, hardly audible, however it still sent Ron into fits of laughter. 'If I've lived that long,' Harry thought miserably. Harry allowed his sharp glare to drop from the insect-like professor to rest of the table. When would he be able to live his life?
**********
All of the Death Eaters in the circle twitched nervously it seemed. A ripple effect seemed to start at one side and wind its way to the other. Behind the masks, it was as though they were one, all fearing the same master, the same curse, bearing the same burden, living the same life. Voldemort lazily looked at their anxious behavior; you could almost smell their fear in the air. Behind him stood the only one who dared not flinch, dared not to show fear. Azalea Riddle could admit that she feared her father, though not as most would expect.
Azalea did not fear the Killing Curse, and its quick death. She didn't fear the Imperious Curse forcing her to relinquish control of her mind. Nor did she fear the searing pain of the Cruciatus Curse.
She feared not being accepted as a Death Eater, as not being able to follow in his path, her father's path. Her idiotic siblings had chosen the rough path through life, especially her twin, who Azalea much wanted to handle personally.
Ever since birth it seemed, everyone could tell upon close inspection that there was a difference between the small girls. Azalea's own mother feared her inner intentions, but cooed over the power that radiated off of Candlefox. The young child had relished the moment she felt her mother die, and felt that last connection of good die in her.
But it didn't die in her twin.
Actually, over the years it did nothing but grow, until the Mudblood-lover had set out to save the world. Candlefox had tried to change her sister, tried to reason with her, but to no avail. Azalea would simply laugh in her face and spit at her feet, saying, "I know who my father is, and where my loyalty rests."
Azalea smiled inwardly at thoughts of her sister's twisted demise. She didn't care who took Johnathan. Her connection to her twin was the only thing stopping her from doing what she felt she was set on this earth to do: Rid the world of that Mudblood scum that dared to call themselves wizards, and also those who stood in her father's way.
Her father's work would not go without reward. Not for him or his most faithful followers, those there out of loyalty rather than fear. Her grandfather had abandoned his wife and son because of what they were. And now they would rid the world of Muggles an Muggles-borns for the same reason. They were all like the elder, now deceased, Tom Riddle. All filth, not worthy of wiping the scum from her father's feet.
They would see soon.
"Now, I must admit I am pleased with the results of the attack." the voice dragged her back into the here and now.
**********
"I can't believe we haven't gone to see Hagrid yet!" Hermione said as they made their way across the grounds to the gamekeeper's hut. A small funnel of smoke snaked it's way from the chimney, a sure sign that winter was coming soon.
"There has definitely been too much going on," Harry sighed. He stepped up to knock on Hagrid's door.
"I was wonderin' when yeh three'd be coming to see meh!" Hagrid exclaimed, ushering the three students inside after he opened the door. "I haven't seen much o' you three since the start o' school. I say I was beginin' to feel a tad bi' hurt." Harry chuckled deeply as he watched Harry fend off his huge boarhound, named Fang.
"Sorry Hagrid, but we've got Mr. Quidditch Captain here now," Ron joked.
"Yeah, speakin' o' tha! Congratulations, Harry. I jus' haven't had a chance ter tell yeh that."
"Thanks," Harry muttered, turning away, slightly red.
"Come on, Harry!" Ron cheered. "You're Quidditch Captain! Enjoy your fame!" Ron clapped him on the back and smiled broadly.
"As if I don't have enough already."
"Have you three been watchin' the papers?" Hagrid asked in a low tone. After three nods of assent he continued. "I can' believe tha they can' put two an' two together. They spot Pettigrew, yet can' figure out tha he's not dead, there's You-Know-Who attacks everywhere, but that danged Fudge is still tryin' ter cover it up! I say that someone should jus' take over his there position and start runnin' the Ministry the righ' way!"
"I couldn't agree more!" Hermione beamed. "It's about time that someone uncovered all of the Minister's cover-ups. He's still trying to make it sound like Voldemort attacks are a passing phase!"
"I'm surprised the Muggles aren' noticin' anything. But then agin, tha's jus' like most of 'em," Hagrid sighed. "But on ter lighter subjects. That was some fine Keepin' and Seekin' that you two did at Gryffindor's game that I couldn' get a chance ter congratulate you all on either."
"Thanks Hagrid," Ron said immediately. Ron was one to love what attention he could get, and it really shone through then. After all, being best friends with Harry Potter tends to push you out of the limelight.
"Not a problem," Hagrid boomed. "I still remember when you lot were jus' small lil' firs' years! I'm awful proud of all of you meself!"
For the good part of two hours, the four sat reminiscing of the past years, the good and bad. Along with the Gryffindor Trio's tales, Hagrid was able to tell a good few of his own from his few years as a student, to the years as gamekeeper, including tales of the Marauders.
Around dinnertime, the cheerful group made their way up to the castle. The Great Hall seemed oddly cheerful under the evening gloom. Upon questioning their fellow students, they found that Halloween, the next Saturday, was a Hogsmeade weekend. All of the students were discussing what they'd buy, whom they'd meet in the Three Broomsticks, and what they'd need to tide them over until the next trip.
Halloween was always a time to remember.
**********
"All right, where shall we go first?" Hermione asked, stepping out into the crisp October chill. They were on their way to Hogsmeade, to spend another weekend sipping butterbeer and buying items from the various shops to their heart's content.
"I say we go to the Three Broomsticks!" Ron proclaimed. "Butterbeer sounds nice in this weather." Ron tugged his cloak around him, as the weather did indeed seem to merit the soothing warmth of the drink.
"I have no objections," Hermione stated briskly. "Harry?"
"Butterbeer does sound great." Harry smiled to his friends. Count on them to make the weekend enjoyable.
The three friends wound their way along the path to the old wizarding village. As they entered the street, Hogwarts students were milling about, pointing out items through the glass shop windows or dragging their friends through the crowd to a predetermined destination.
The Three Broomsticks was as inviting as always. Stepping in from the cool air outside, it was definitely a relief to feel the warmth wash over their chilled bodies. Harry and Ron grabbed a nice table in a corner while Hermione made her way to the bar. Moments later, she spotted them and made her way over with the three drinks clutched in her hands.
"It's always great to have a Hogsmeade weekend before the Halloween feast," Hermione smiled, sipping the warm drink happily.
"I don't see what the whole Halloween ordeal is. Hogsmeade is nice everyday of the year," Ron pointed out.
"I know, but it just seems appropriate somehow. After all those tales, I heard of witches and wizards on Halloween when I was little. It just seems to fit to me."
The conversation continued in that manner for a while. The Gryffindor Trio just sat enjoying one another's company, something that they'd missed for too long. It was bonds like theirs that couldn't be broken.
Unfortunately, their time of happiness was cut terribly short. Hermione and Ron were arguing peaceably back and forth. That's when it happened.
Harry felt a prickling on the back of his neck. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that it most certainly couldn't be something good. That would just be his luck.
Nothing happened for several minutes, and Harry was fully able to picture himself as a paranoid old man sitting on his porch in a rocking chair with his wand in hand. Was he really that worried?
Then something finally hit.
Some sort of explosion from off in the distance was the first warning, followed quickly by high-pitched screams. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed to the door with the rest of the curious mob. They could see fire unfurling in the air above the forest, stretching forth from the dark trees, marking the sky with flames.
All faces froze in horror, none of them seeming to register what could possibly be the cause of this terror. From stricken face to stricken face, a look of shock and complete disbelief was etched deeply in the lines of worry and fear.
Then the Death Eaters Apparated in. With a soft pop and a swish of black cloaks, the followers of Voldemort were upon the villagers of Hogsmeade.
Curses were being flung back and forth, neither side gaining any lead. Screams resonated from the very walls of the wizarding village. Hogwarts students began to stream back to the school, knowing that once they were in embrace of Dumbledore's walls they'd be safe.
It was very confusing being jostled by the crowd as it ran like a thick river of bodies towards the ancient castle. Harry, Ron, and Hermione couldn't help but be pushed along with the rest. It was as though every scream pushed them onwards, as the flowing body pushed forward faster and faster.
The Defense Team was there, protecting them as ever. They urged them on, blocking off the Death Eater's path, preventing the black cloaked wizards from making it to the castle.
All the students gathered in the Great Hall, all of them looking for answers. However, they already knew what had happened. They had just witnessed a VERY obvious Voldemort attack, and very foolishly planned at that.
It wasn't until all was settled, and the bedraggled Defense Team had made it back to the school that everyone tried to gather their bearings. They had assumed that everyone was safe, until a cry came from the back of the crowd, sounding frantic and exasperated.
"WAIT! Where's Neville?!?!?"
A/N: Yes, it's a terribly short chapter. It should be a crime, I know. But I couldn't see a more appropriate way to end it. All Neville fans, I apologize. It was either he or Ginny. -Anna Dearest